My Wives are Beautiful Demons - Chapter 641

Capítulo 641: Another Goddess of Love.

The mist that enveloped the portal dissipated like smoke cut by a cold wind.

Vergil felt the damp ground beneath his feet—a living ground, covered in thick moss, enormous leaves, and intertwined roots that seemed to pulse with their own energy. The forest was ancient. Too ancient. The kind of place where the trees carried memories and the skies bowed to hear secrets.

Sapphire took a deep breath, as if she smelled something familiar.

Vergil looked around, his eyes attentive.

“…Where are we?”

Sapphire took a few steps, brushing aside a branch indifferently, as if she owned the place. “Vanaheim, a little further away from everything. I’d say we’re quite far from any nearby civilization.”

Vergil raised an eyebrow. “And who exactly are we going to see now?”

Sapphire turned slightly and looked at Vergil with eyes full of greed. “I’m going to collect another favor. From a certain goddess of love.” “You have quite a few people to extort favors from, huh? Impressive.” Vergil commented to his wife, who smiled.

“Did you forget? We’re demons, and I’m a primordial. Usually, we’re the ones summoned by the gods. Small demons are useless. And of course, I got almost all the contracts, since I’m a demon known for killing a lot of people.” She laughed proudly; it had been a long time since Vergil had seen her so happy to be who she was.

He then took a deep breath, remembering what she had just said… “Oh shit… Am I going to meet another goddess of love?”

The tone wasn’t exasperated. It was the voice of someone reliving specific traumatic memories—and bright enough to provoke bad feelings.

Sapphire gave a short, dry, almost cruel laugh. “Yes.”

Vergil ran a hand over his face, murmuring, “Great… last time I was almost chased by Aphrodite trying… I don’t know what to do with me. That crazy bitch.”

He sighed again.

Long. Heavy. The sigh of a man who had seen too many deities in one day.

Sapphire raised her chin with satisfied arrogance. “This goddess is less problematic than that idiot virgin goddess.”

“…Virgin. Aphrodite. Goddess of sex. Doesn’t make sense.” He commented, chuckling slightly.

Sapphire snorted. “She’s a virgin, never touched anyone. Mythology was great marketing for her, humanity is quite foolish. They created a perfect, unattainable goddess. And she bought into her own lie.”

Vergil raised his eyebrows. “Impressive. A sex goddess being a virgin.”

Sapphire raised a finger. “And it’s not her fault for being perfect.” She continued, with the sharp calm of someone stating a universal fact:

“Men generally feel diminished next to something so far above them. Her beauty, her aura, her emotional power… That’s why she never got close to a man. They can’t stand being near her for more than a few minutes.”

She walked further ahead, pushing aside enormous leaves that shimmered with golden particles. “It’s like trying to hug the sun. Everyone melts.” She commented, laughing, and continued walking.

Vergil, hearing this, became somewhat thoughtful. After all… ‘I was near Aphrodite and none of this happened… actually, I thought she was quite normal… she wasn’t all that.’ He thought, and Sapphire sensed his lost gaze.

Turning around, her red hair swaying like fire, she asked, “What are you thinking about, Vergil?”

He blinked, returning to the present. “…Nothing much. Just calculating the impact of… meeting another goddess.” He commented, laughing slightly.

She narrowed her eyes, assessing him for a second.

Then she smiled. “Relax. This one is calm. Much gentler. She doesn’t try to prove anything to the universe. Or try to hit on something that isn’t her.”

Vergil crossed his arms. “Who is she, anyway?”

Sapphire answered: “Freyja.”

The forest trembled—as if even her name carried weight.

Vergil took a deep breath. “…Freyja of the Vanir? The one of the runes? The one of primordial magic?”

Sapphire smiled proudly. “And the one of love. Yes.”

Vergil closed his eyes. “Great. Another goddess to try to understand.”

Sapphire walked to him, placed a hand on his chest—light, warm—and said: “Unlike Aphrodite, she doesn’t try to be perfect. She’s imperfect. And that’s what makes her strong.”

Vergil studied her face.

Sapphire added, “And she owes me.”

“What exactly?”

Sapphire smiled as if she carried a dangerous secret. “A piece of her soul.”

Vergil… stopped. “…What?”

“I’ll explain later.” She extended her hand to him. “Come on. She must be at the sanctuary.”

Vergil hesitated. “…And you think she’ll cooperate?”

“She will cooperate.”

“Why does she owe you?”

“Because she fears me.” Sapphire smiled fiercely. “Or because she loves me. It depends on the time.”

Vergil stood motionless.

Completely motionless.

“…Sapphire. You stole the soul of a goddess of love?”

She blinked. “I said I’d explain later. And I didn’t steal, I received it for my demonic work.”

And she began to walk among the trees—which bent around her, making way.

Vergil took a deep breath and followed her.

As they walked, the forest grew brighter, more golden. Flowers opened as they passed. Pink and gold sparkles floated in the air, like dust of love magic.

Vergil observed everything quietly.

The light changed.

It wasn’t gradual—it was sudden, as if someone had lifted an invisible veil, and all the forest’s brilliance had decided to concentrate on a single point ahead.

The mossy trail opened onto white stone steps, too ancient to measure, covered in living runes that pulsed with golden energy. The air grew warmer… then lighter… then almost intoxicating.

Vergil felt his body reacting—his skin prickling, his pulse quickening without warning. He looked at Sapphire.

“…What is this?”

“The border of her domain,” Sapphire commented casually, as if discussing the weather. “The temple is right over there.”

And it was.

A sanctuary built with intertwined roots, gold, clear stones, and enormous petals that seemed to float even without wind. Each column emanated a rosy glow, and each breath seemed to draw a little of the place’s energy into his chest.

Vergil felt that power like a wave—warm, enveloping, seductive in a way that wasn’t sexual…it was emotional. As if the air were trying to embrace him from within.

Sapphire stopped abruptly at the base of the steps.

She turned to him, cupping his face in both hands, her thumbs pressing against his cheeks.

“Vergil. Concentrate all the energy you can. Now.”

“…So you don’t faint?” He asked, raising an eyebrow, a mixture of confusion and slight concern.

“YES. Just do it. Focus on the core, the aura, stabilize everything.” Sapphire ordered, her tone serious enough to leave no room for debate. “If you go in unprepared, you’ll fall flat on your face when her aura envelops you. And I won’t carry you.”

Vergil took a deep breath, instinctively activating his energy—the Agares flames, the coldness of Nivara, the pressure of Death, the ripple of the Sitri wind, the Baal blood—all compressing into a point, reinforcing his center.

When he did, the numbing sensation lessened… a little.

“This is ridiculous.” He murmured. “Just her control already—”

“Shut up and walk. She’s in the pool.”

Vergil blinked. “Pool.”

“Yes. Not hard to understand. Now come on.”

She pulled him up the steps.

Each step felt heavier. Not physically—emotionally. As if the air were insistently opening the layers of his heart and stirring everything inside.

Vergil maintained a steady aura, tense muscles, absolute focus.

As they crossed the main corridor—walls filled with vibrant flowers and shimmering light—Sapphire simply followed through natural corridors until reaching an open area behind the temple, where the golden light seemed to concentrate.

“She’s there,” Sapphire announced, as if stating the obvious.

Vergil took a deep breath, ready for anything.

But nothing—absolutely nothing—could have prepared him for what he saw when they took the last step and entered the garden behind the temple.

Vergil froze.

His whole body.

His whole soul.

His every breath.

There, in a natural pool formed by shimmering waters that reflected the sky as if it were liquid gold…

…was the woman.

The golden light bathing the sanctuary seemed to bend, to distort—as if the very air were reacting to her presence.

Vergil froze.

Literally.

His body froze the instant his eyes landed on the figure at the edge of the pool. The bright blue water reflected points of light on the stone ceiling, but all that vanished for him. There was only her.

FREYJA.

Not the immortal form, glorified by distorted myths.

Not the distant queen of the runes.

But the woman—alive, present, real—sitting with her legs in the water as if governing the love of the entire world were a secondary activity.

The first thing Vergil noticed was the warmth.

Not sensual warmth—but human warmth. A soft, natural halo, like the glow of a sunset born within her.

Her hair, long and dark as damp wood after the rain, fell down her back and shoulders, clumped together in shimmering strands. The strands had golden reflections—not artificial, but as if they carried particles of their own sky.

Her skin was warm, radiant, not excessively so, but with the ease of someone who knows exactly who she is. Skin that seemed to have been kissed by light, by the seasons, by the very winds of Vanaheim.

The light, translucent dress she wore wasn’t flashy—it was ritualistic. Ethereal fabrics fell in soft layers, revealing just enough to show harmony, but maintaining the dignity that only a goddess aware of her own power can possess. Golden chains encircled her hips, arms, and waist as if they weren’t accessories, but natural extensions of her aura.

The water reflected those small adornments—and each gleam made Freyja seem part of the light itself.

And then… the eyes.

That amber gaze, intense and yet gentle, met Vergil for a microsecond.

And that instant was enough for the whole world to lose its sound.

There was no seduction.

There was no intention.

It was simply… pure emotional power.

A warmth that embraced, that welcomed, that understood—and that, by its very nature, was strong enough to bring down armies.

Freyja smiled.

“It’s been so long.” Freyja said, smiling at Sapphire, “I missed you.” She smiled gently at Sapphire.

Unlike Fafnir, Brokk, and Sindri’s reaction… Freyja was happy to see Sapphire.

“I’m not available for relationships, I’m sorry,” Sapphire said, waving her hand, “Neither is he. Please, tone down his seductive aura. He’s still a child.”

Vergil looked at Sapphire… “A child?”

“Quiet, I don’t want to see you become a sex slave,” Sapphire said, and looked at Freyja.

Freyja looked at Sapphire. “He ignored the effect. What are you talking about?”

Sapphire looked at her, then at Vergil. “Hm?”

“How did you do that?” Sapphire questioned, “Even I’m holding myself back from attacking that woman.”

Vergil looked at her. “Why should I be seduced by a woman I just met?”

“Huh?” Sapphire and Freyja asked, as if they had just heard a blasphemy.